


Anything That May Delay You

by annaslastdalliance



Series: That terrible gaslighting AU [1]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: (And a small amount of physical abuse by-proxy and in self-defence), Bleak AUs, Clear-sighted Anna, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fear the being that knows you and loves you and has nothing to lose, Gaslighting, God this is awful, Sociopathic Hans, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaslastdalliance/pseuds/annaslastdalliance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had all believed it so readily. No matter how many times Anna told them true love had broken the curse and that Hans had not saved her so much as murdered her sister in cold blood, it was evident that it was Elsa's death, at Hans's reluctant hands, that had truly put an end to her heart's freezing. (Anna knows what Hans is; Hans tries to convince her she's mistaken.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything That May Delay You

**Author's Note:**

> A little Hansanna drabble I wrote for Hanna week~! Takes place in an AU where Kristoff never found Anna on the fjord, and Hans just picked himself up off the ground after Anna deflected his blow and finished off the job with no witnesses before Anna had time to thaw. Or, as I like to call it, "the gaslighting AU," because everything is sociopathic and everything hurts. Title is from Ladytron's Destroy Everything You Touch: "anything that may delay you/ might just save you."
> 
> [Crossposted from Tumblr because I do not trust that website's archiving!]

On good days, Anna is everything he ever dreamed of. On good days, she is the king's wife he intended, curled into him like a kitten when he wakes, her wheat-coloured hair splayed over his pillow, her lips pressed against the angle of his neck in permanent apology. On days like these, she is pliable, loving, sometimes even playful, and her kisses taste only faintly of tears. On days like these, he drinks her in like cool water, and makes her laugh by counting the freckles on her cheeks.

On bad days, Anna is his worst nightmare: petulant, ungenerous, a peasant who sees every lie for what it is. Then it's just a matter of catching onto her fists and forcing her into the library; locking her in until her eyes cloud over again. It's a good thing the former King had fired most of the castle servants years ago in an attempt to preserve Elsa's secret, as it ensures there's rarely anyone around to witness Hans's manhandling, but even when there is, they do not dare to intervene. Anna is, unmistakably, hysteric, and they won't begrudge their long-suffering lord his moment of selfish peace. They had all seen her that day, after all; when the ice had melted from her eyes to reveal her sister's bloodied stump. They had all heard her scream, they had all seen her attack the hero who had saved her, beating at his chest till her fists were bloody, though he did not even raise a hand to defend himself.

"I had to," Hans had shouted, over and over, audible even to the distant witnesses on the banks and the castle balconies. Catching Anna in the cage of his arms, he'd dragged her slowly back to the shore, where they're taken her from him with medical hands. It would be hours till she stopped screaming. "She was killing you, and I had--I had to save you!"

They had all believed it so readily. No matter how many times Anna told them true love had broken the curse and that Hans had not saved her so much as murdered her sister in cold blood, it was evident that it was Elsa's death, at Hans's reluctant hands, that had truly put an end to her heart's freezing. It was obvious the princess was in a disturbed state of mind, and anyway, who had ever heard of true love between _siblings_ breaking a curse? It was only natural she would be confused about the order of events; it was only natural she would want to believe her life had not been won at the cost of her sister's. Who could really tell, at such a distance, whether Anna had begun to thaw before or after Hans had freed the Snow Queen from the mortal coil?

It only takes a week for Anna to stop telling her version of events, and to start asking Hans about his. _Did I really_ , she says, and _are you sure?_ , and her eyes cloud over, a little, till Hans rewards her with a kiss on the cheek, which still makes her flinch, and the promise of a draught-less sleep. Then he wakes up with Anna's small fingers pressed against his Adam's apple, and her tears warm and angry on his cheeks, and stops making promises he intends to keep.

She never believes it, fully, but she never tries to kill him again either, though she is prone to attacking him still. Over the following weeks, the doctors bring more herbs and stronger draughts and prescribe cold baths which Hans takes a vindictive pleasure in overseeing after a day in public spent collecting her bruises. It isn't Anna's fear that brings him pleasure, but the moment she inevitably cries out for him and the doctors part with reverence to let him approach the basin. She clings onto his arm as soon as its within reach, pressing her face against the palm of his hand, and Hans enjoys letting his forehead wrinkle with pity, saying, " _That's enough_ ," sternly, to the surrounding physicians, as though this is a treatment he wishes he could forbid. They cede the room apologetically, and Hans helps her out of the tub and out of her sopping shift and into bed, where she coughs feebly as she soaks in the remnants of heat from the warming pan he'd arranged for earlier. If he's entirely honest, Hans counts these as good days, despite their unfortunate beginnings, because he finds value in Anna's warm and grateful sleep, and the lightness in his chest that accompanies the sound of her easy breathing.

Eventually, they get married as he'd originally intended, though propriety and grieving demands they wait a full year before the ceremony, till the following spring. Hans spends an entire month after Anna's advisers break the news in a fury of impatience: he has waited long enough, and his nerves are grated thin by Anna's crying. But it makes the moment sweeter when it comes. The day of the ceremony is a good one, although it must seem a bad one to Anna, filled to the brim with the certitude of her own insanity. She says the required words timidly, but without any hesitation, and Hans has no trouble inflecting love into his echo. The first night of their honeymoon, on the other hand, is a bad one, as are the ones that follow, and it's only on the fourth night since their wedding that Anna is in any state to reciprocate his advances. It is nothing special, but Anna is inexperienced and ill besides, and Hans finds he is simply pleased the act can be accomplished at all, given the circumstances. Though it is too early to think of heirs, he thinks a child might do Anna some good, bring out the colour that once suffused her cheeks.

Now officially King, Hans finds he becomes more generous, more patient, and Anna in turn grows calmer, without the threat of ice baths and entire days spent beating at the door of the library, weeping. On the anniversary of his victory and Elsa's death, Anna tentatively asks to visit her sister's resting place, and Hans accompanies her unhesitatingly. There are no longer any scenes. Hans watches his wife's pale, strangely static profile, and feels a curious nostalgia for her fury and accusations. The same evening, he lies beside her in their canopy bed, with his head propped up on one elbow, watching her breathe, and asks, "Do you still wonder what happened that day?"

Anna does not ask him what he means.

"All the time," she says, and he squeezes gently at her hip, unexpectedly moved by her honesty.

"You're confused," he recites quietly, though his heart isn't in it. "It's understandable. You turned to ice, Anna, and for a moment I feared you would never be changed back."

He kisses her mouth as punctuation, and she kisses back, and then nips at his lips. Hans jerks his head back in surprise. He's never known her to be forceful in this, as he's never been fool enough to touch her during her moments of clarity. He likes Anna best when she loves him, not when he is holding her at arm's length by the wrists.

"You don't understand. I _know_ what happened that day, Hans. What I wonder about is how you could do it."

"Anna..." He pulls away from her slightly, but she keeps an arm wrapped around his back, and he dislikes being first to instigate violence. "You're still not well."

"I'm as well as I'll ever be," Anna says then, wryly, and her smile is tired, but not insincere. She shifts slightly under the sheets until she's bridged the small distance he's put between them, and Hans looks down his nose at the top of her hair and wonders if this will end with guards storming the royal bedchamber again. He isn't frightened, exactly--Anna has tried to hurt him often enough by now that he knows she presents no real danger--but the thought of another attempt makes him feel anxious, and somehow exhausted. But as the minutes pass without incident, sleepiness begins to wear at his anxiety, and he dips a kiss against Anna's head almost without thinking.

"I didn't think you would ever stop fighting me," he says into the silence, half convinced she's fallen asleep, but after a moment, she pulls her head back to look at him. For once, Hans doesn't think to rearrange the muscles of his eyes and cheeks. He can't imagine what she sees, but it makes her smile again, faintly.  
  
"Oh, love," Anna breathes, and it's a term she's never used with him before: always _Hans_ , always  _dear_. It feels like something has been lit, but he can't tell if it's a lantern or a bonfire.

"What makes you so sure I have?"


End file.
